That my heart grows colder with each day
by shannon0316
Summary: The aftermath of Toby's "disappearance".
1. Chapter 1

_**"Somebody did kill Toby, but I am the reason that he is dead."**_

"Someone did kill Toby." The words echoed in my head like I was standing in the bottom of a vacant volcano. Somehow, I thought that this would be easier if they were still together. Less grief, I guess. But now there are so many possibilities in which I actually was responsible for his death. Sometimes I used to hate myself for being smart, and that fateful, rainy night was just one of those times. If I wasn't so adept at finding the badge, we would still be together. Sure, I'd still be living a lie, but sometimes those hurt less than the truth. If he had malicious intentions, then I certainly did something to make him hate me so much, I just don't know what. Maybe the rest of the A team killed him for slipping up and letting me know. Or maybe he was in it for me, and he wasn't the one that cleared out the room. That would be ideal, but you know what they say about hope, it breeds eternal misery. None the less, he wasn't here anymore for me to ask him.

"But I am the reason that he is dead." Lava began to pour from the metaphorical volcano and burned much more than my skin, but my soul as well.

I stared at the blank walls, snapping back to my new reality. They were an off-white and seemed to be staring back at me, which is ironic because most of the people here have paranoia. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. It's not easy when you realize you've been sleeping with the enemy. There was a lamp in the corner, but I had it shut off. There was no light at the end of the tunnel for me, I was sure of it. The bed frame was hard like rocks and when I lay down, it hurts my back. But maybe it's good for me to experience some physical aching to help cope with the emotional pain. _Welcome to Radley._

Wren walked into the room. He disgusted me. Even though he hadn't done anything wrong, anything that reminded me of Toby infuriated me. Especially past love interests. He's knocked me down before, well, the possibility of us had. Left a scar, but it had healed. Until now, when all of my scars are open. Melissa hadn't visited me, but to be fair, no one had. I could have used a shoulder to cry on. I could have used some relationship advice, not even with Wren, but with Toby. Maybe she could have helped me not end up like this. She didn't care, Spencer knew that. Melissa could have known about Toby's true identity as soon as they got together and her spiteful ways would prevent her from telling me. She always used Wren as an excuse, but over a year later, we both knew that his name was just a metaphor for her animosity towards me that was instilled in our Hastings DNA. But I didn't even know if I was a Hastings. Or a person, for that matter.

He placed a big, yellow pill on my wooden desk with a small bottle of water.

"I don't need these," I told him, not looking into his chocolate brown eyes. "I'm not insane. I'm just hurt. Confused. Guilty. But not mentally insane. At least, not yet."

_ "Spencer," he said in his soothing British accent. "I think we all know that you are."_

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ok so that was my first spencer one shot (kind of spoby too idk).

hope you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

_**"I, um, I fell down in the woods, when I was running. I fell down and I looked at the ground and I saw my hand and my sleeve and the little button on my sleeve and some dirt and an old acorn. And I said to myself, 'Okay if this is the last thing you ever see, I can handle that.' I'm done. I've had enough."**_

There wasn't a point anymore. Soul being slowly diminished, time left in this "life" raining down like the fine grains of sand in an hour glass. Maybe I was insane, maybe Wren was right. He appeared to have reached serendipity, not minding the fact that he contributed to my insanity. If there was one thing that the doctor could not fix, it was a broken heart. But that was the problem. He was a doctor, but not a normal one. He worked at Radley, a place for supposed healing, yet easily doubled over as a mental asylum. I wasn't in a rubber room, but the blinking monitor in the corner of the room that was intended for me not to notice peered back at me. I knew what went on behind the camera. They probably pitied me. They surely didn't understand me. But how could they, I didn't even understand myself. Maybe they even laughed. Morbidity works in strange ways.

But it was late, about 2 AM, judging from the sun. That was the thing about humanity. They were selfish, greedy. Couldn't sacrifice a mere minute of their own time for others. Surely, no one would be there. The camera light was fading. It was at the point where it was just a haze. I opened the desk. They had taken everything out that I could hurt myself with. No scissors. No pencils. Just a hard, wooden desk. I considered banging my head on the desk, but that was a terrible way to go, not to mention one that would label me as a mental patient all of the way to my grave, literally.

I ripped off my shirt. My bra was no match for the brutal December winds, but I didn't care. It howled with despair. I looked at the peaceful painting of a bowl of fruit on the window and viciously tore it down. There was a small hook for the painting, exactly what I was looking for. I took the elastic black hairband out of my hair and tied the shirt into a noose. I took my swiveling desk chair and put it below the hook and stood on it.

I was about to secure my noose when I heard my name. I put my hands down and looked at the window. No one was there. I shrugged it off, assuming it was paranoia. I reached back up for the noose when I heard it again. "Spencer," the anonymous whisper pleaded. "Come meet me here, come out through the window." I began to climb down from the chair. "Maybe Wren was right," I thought. "Maybe I am insane." But I didn't have anything to lose by going, or so I thought. I was so drowsy that I forgot to take my shirt off of the noose. I was solely dressed in my purple bra and flannel pajama pants from my half-hearted attempt to get into my pajamas. I slipped out of the window and my feet automatically blistered against the hard rocks. I looked to see who was there and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't know about you guys, but as the writer, I was aching to have Toby come into play. But sticking to the canon spoby plot didn't really seem appealing to me, and this plot is sure to keep you guys on your toes (and don't worry, it will stay appropriate, no matter how bad a path it seems to be going). Hope you like!

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_** "Will you... Will you just tell me that what I saw tonight wasn't real? Please! Please tell me that there's more to the story. That there's something that I don't know. Please, Toby. Please... Toby." **_

I woke up with a jolt. I was in a supply closet in what I gathered as a dingy apartment or hotel room. It smelled of soot and metal. The door was locked and bolted from the other side. I threw my tired body against the door in protest. The knob opened. A blinding white light shone through. My eyes got adjusted to the brightness and I was, as I had thought, in an old-fashioned hotel room. I stepped out and came face-to-face with a six pack. I knew who it was, who it had to be, but I looked up slowly to make sure.

"But you're... but I saw you... in the park," I stammered, too confused, tired, and on the last of my pain medication to talk clearly.

"Shh," Toby replied. "You're exhausted. Drink this herbal tea and get some rest, we'll talk in the morning." I wanted to fight it. I wanted to slap him across the face so hard that it made the blast I gave him when I found out that he was A feel like he was hit with pillows. But most of all, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to fall into his arms and never let go. If I could just collapse into his arms one last time, I could die right there and want nothing more. He sat me down and gave me a burning cup with an interesting smell as he massaged my neck. "Lavender," he replied, reading my thoughts. I drank without protest and then crawled into the King-sized bed. Toby was in the shower.

My eye lids drooped and my breath got steady, but I was still awake. I felt the steam coming all of the way from the bathroom. I wanted to be in there with him, to go everywhere to him. Just to have my blue-eyed, beautiful baby back next to me. I reached back to unclasp my bra, but my arms would not respond to my brain. A loud noise came from the bathroom that I recognized as the shower turning off. I felt a body next to me. My passion allowed me to turn over and see Toby. I stared into his piercing blue eyes. He seductively licked his lips. I heard a rumbling noise from behind him. He ripped off the covers and revealed a revolver. And in that moment, I knew who Toby was. Not my true lover. Not a person hurt from my actions that thought I deserved revenge. I was his toy, and suddenly, life seemed important to me. Ironically so, since merely hours ago (or so I believe) I tried to take my own life. I knew what I had to do, it was the only way to live.


End file.
